"I find it kinda funny; I find it kinda sad—that the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."

Sometimes I wish I could snap my fingers and vanish everyone's pain. The people I know are bad enough: and then there's everyone I merely hear about, and the people in news-magazine pictures.

As Henry tells Danielle in Ever After, "If I cared about anything, I'd have to care about everything."

Nothing I can remember about my life up to this point, which I admit is not much, has been remotely tramatic—so how can I even pretend to empathize? Basically I have led a charmed existence void of strong emotion. Maybe I should quietly shut my door and continue that way. I have no license for misery or joy.

My smile is the same in all my pictures.